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Yachi stopped in front of the small restaurant, out of breath, relieved she’d finally found the place Shoyo recommended. She’d spent all of dinnertime trying to find it. She was new to Tokyo, and navigating all the twists and turns and streets was an overwhelming task. But she finally found it: Onigiri Miya.
She peered in through the window. The shop was without patrons. But, it was an odd hour. Right in between dinner and supper times, so it wasn’t unusual for the place to be a bit idle. Still, what if the shop was actually closed? She didn’t want to intrude, but she also spent a lot of time looking for the place. Maybe she’d just grab a to-go menu and leave. That way, she could figure out her order and rehearse it before she visited properly. Yes. Just a menu.
Yachi opened the door slowly to prevent a creak and poked her head in. As she’d seen, there was no one around. There wasn’t even a worker at the counter. Maybe whoever closed forgot to lock the door? Yachi was just about to back out when a man stepped out from the back room. She made a small noise and he looked over. His face brightened.
“Hiya. We’re still open. Welcome to Onigiri Miya. Why don’tcha come sit down?”
Now socially obligated to not waste this guy's time, Yachi stepped in and hesitantly approached the counter. At a step away, she stopped. There was something familiar about the man. She just couldn’t quite place it.
“Ah. If I look familiar to ya, you probly know my brother, Miya Atsumu. He’s a volleyball player. I’m Osamu, by the way.”
“Oh!” Yachi said. And it all rushed back to her. Black Jackals game vs the Alders. Miya Atsumu as setter. Her first two years of high school, Karasuno strategizing against a set of twins. Miya...Yachi slapped her forehead. Of course! How did she not realize? The name was in...well, the name . Onigiri Miya.
“Ya’alright there?”
Yachi looked up to Osamu, face growing hot. She really just did that. In public. In front of another adult. “I’m so sorry!” Yachi bowed, but actually hit her head this time. Cradling her forehead, she looked at Osamu sheepishly. “I’m sorry for mistaking you for your brother.”
Osamu shook his head, a smile tugging on his lips. “It’s alright. Happens all the time.”
“That only makes it worse!” Yachi said, eyes widening.
Osamu chuckled and ducked into the back and returned with an icepak. He held it out to her. “That probly hurts, yeah?”
Yachi took it gingerly and placed it on her forehead. “I’m deeply sorry, Miya-san. I’ve troubled you this much a-and disturbed you and I understand if you’re upset and--” she fell into her usual ramble when she felt anxious. She’d gotten better over the years, hadn’t she? She couldn’t remember an outburst like this in a while.
“Hey.”
Yachi looked up.
“I’m not upset,” Osamu said. “Could never be upset when ya have that look on yer face.”
Yachi’s cheeks burned for a different reason. This was embarrassing. Why hadn’t she just given up and settled for another restaurant earlier? Osamu was staring down at her, and Yachi’s mind could only race with wonderings of what he was thinking.
“How ‘bout some grub, yeah? Onigiri’s my fav’rite comfort food.”
He didn’t give Yachi time for a rebuke and immediately turned around to the cooking counter.
Yachi willed herself to relax a bit. She loved the smell and feel of the place. It reminded her of Miyagi and the food stalls in the local market. She breathed in the aroma of fresh rice, and something also attracted her attention. It was the faint scent of cologne, which she realized could only have come from the man in front of her. Yachi restrained herself from ogling Osamu from the back. But from what Yachi had seen, he was still pretty fit. Maybe not as much as his twin, but still definitely not unpleasantly so. Oh my god. Yachi slapped herself internally. What was she even doing creeping on a man she’d forgotten existed?
“...Miya-san.”
“Hm?”
“I--I’m sorry I didn’t remember you,” Yachi said.
Osamu looked over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
Yachi sunk in her seat from the further embarrassment. Now she probably just made him even more uncomfortable. “I’m sorry! I’m Yachi Hitoka. I was Karasuno’s manager.”
“Ah.” Osamu turned around halfway this time, studying her face. Yachi’s eyes darted away while he looked. “Well, I guess we’re even then. Sad ta say I can’t remember ya either.”
“No, no, no.” Yachi waved her hands in front of her. “I wouldn’t expect you to remember me! I was just the manager, after all. You were an important player and all--” Yachi let out a small, uneasy laugh.
Osamu tipped his head. “If yer on the floor, yer on the floor. A team isn’t just the players. Not in volleyball, at least.”
“I…” Yachi bit her lip. “Okay.”
He seemed a little amused for some reason, but Yachi was just glad he didn’t look angry. But she didn’t have time to ponder on his face because he turned back to what he was doing.
“Oh, I haven’t ordered yet. I’m so sorry! And you’re in the middle of making an order!” Yachi said, voice growing more and more devastated.
Osamu’s shoulders shook. And from the muffled sounds coming from him, he was definitely laughing. Was spontaneous human combustion triggered by embarrassment? Because Yachi was certainly only a few steps away from finding out.
“Yer not botherin’ me, Yachi-san.” Osamu finally turned around.
He held a tray in his hands. It was entirely full of different types of onigiri. Yachi gasped.
“It’s not much, but it’s a sampler of our menu onigiri. But you can build yer own, too. I’d show ya our non-onigiri items, but I didn’t want ya waitin’.”
“I’m okay. Really!” Yachi said.
Then her stomach growled quite audibly in the empty shop.
The ends of Osamu’s lips twitched in amusement. “Try it. You owe me for thinking I’m Atsumu.”
Yachi’s expression grew horrified and she nodded quickly and took one of the triangles. “Itadakimasu!”
And it was heaven. The mixture of textures, the combination of flavors--even the taste of the rice itself--Yachi savored all of it. She closed her eyes as she appreciated every bite. She even moaned without realizing it--Well, until she opened her eyes to an unreadable expression on Osamu’s face. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Something is clearly wrong with me. I can’t believe I just did that.
“So how was it?”
Yachi peeked up at him through her eyelashes. “It was very tasty, Miya-san.”
Then he finally gave a small smile. “That’s all I like to hear.”
Yachi was sure the heat from her face was enough to keep her apartment warm for the winter. Osamu probably didn’t realize the double meaning, but of course Yachi’s mind had to go there. He was talking about your praise, your praise Hitoka!
“U-Um,” Yachi croaked out. “How much do I owe you? I need to get going, and um…”
Osamu didn’t answer immediately. He just wrapped all of the onigiri into separate bags and placed them in a to-go container. “It’s on the house.” He held out the bag to her. “Karasuno’s Manager Special.”
Yachi looked from Osamu to the food, and back to Osamu again. “I can’t take this!”
“What did I say? You owe me, dontcha?” His eyes glittered.
Yachi’s mouth gaped. She took the bag with shaking hands and bowed her head again. “I can’t take this without paying, Miya-san. And your face is even red from being in the heat of the kitchen! You weren’t that red before, and you went through all this trouble--”
“Yachi-san.”
Yachi looked up in time to see Osamu adjusting the brim of his ballcap.
“Take it, will ya?” He cleared his throat. “You’ll pay me next time, yeah?” He raised his head. And Yachi blushed under the amber-eyed gaze. She could only find herself nodding. Next time?
“Y-Yes.” And Yachi scurried out of the shop, clutching the bag to her chest. “Thank you!” she shrieked. She heard a soft chuckle before the door shut behind her. Yachi didn’t stop power walking until she’d turned the corner and walked another block. She stopped to rest her back against the side of another shop.
It took her a minute to calm her restless breathing, the bag still clutched to her chest.
Miya Osamu.
Her brain traced back to the crooked smile, the playful drawl, the unforgettable eyes. Yachi glanced down at the Onigiri Miya logo on the bag. She could only wonder: The next time she watched a Jackal’s game, would she mistake Atsumu for Osamu this time?